That's What He Said
by Ink On Paper
Summary: A study into select quotes from one very special agent. Tiva.
1. I

"But your eyes won't shut up."

He accuses her of this on a cold afternoon in December, as she sits across from him, avoiding his gaze as he eavesdrops on her side of a phone call. Enough time has lapsed to regain the ability to walk on dry land steadily and revert back to the pesky colloquialisms that had rusted after an entire summer of Hebrew. An entire summer and a too long stint in Israel and a too long deployment at sea, where the rocking of waves were more nauseating than comforting, the levels of testosterone stifling. He has shared virtually every aspect of his prolonged stay aboard the floating prison, or at least what is worth repeating (not much, actually) but she seems reluctant to expand on her clipped and guarded account of her own adventure. He knows she was in the field, with men he trusted no more than she did, in a desert far from home -far from him. And he knows that something befell her during an operation of some sort, the kind of something that most likely involved bad guys and highly volatile explosives. And he now has reason to suspect that she is withholding more beyond even that. Not a something, but a someone. A someone she staunchly refuses to disclose all the while deflecting his inquiries, weak defenses of "I don't want to talk about it" and "Nothing happened." Perhaps this is true, but her dark brown eyes, forever wary, yet oh so easy for him to read, are screaming in protest to what her lips profess. He only wishes at the time that he knew what it was exactly that she was begging him to understand.

_And her eyes never do shut up but they do eventually let her heart get a word in edgewise._


	2. II & III

**A/N: ;^). Kit.**

**DISCLAIMER: Still own nothing.**

**II.**

"I was just going to tousle your hair . . . . Sometimes it makes you laugh."

And he really only wants her laugh, or smile. At this point, he would gladly take a mere twitch of her lips as a drastically positive change. He would take anything, anything at all, so long as it wasn't this dull melancholy that has settled in her heart, this pensive silence that holds her captive in her own mind. Being locked in one's headspace was dangerous, he knew this too well, had seen it too many times. Unsafe headspace leads to two things, a slow burnout or a catastrophic explosion and he would rather her snap out of it now, follow his coaxing voice back to the land of the living. Leave the dead buried and step into the light. Or smile, at the very least. (Or release him from the ninja grip.) Because that would be better than the shroud of apathy she had immersed herself in. Yes, he would take anything. Hell, he'd take the burden if he could, if she'd let him. Not that she ever would.

_And, eventually, the sound of her laughter will fill the air and he'll be right there beside her, the cause of it all. . . . ._

* * *

**III.**

"You talk. I'll listen."

It's a promise, a no strings attached guarantee. She could talk until words were no longer sufficient. And he would listen, silently, entirely, attention fully devoted to her. He would even pay for drinks. And she didn't even have to discuss what had transpired, so long as she just spoke. So long as she showed some sign of life beside this hollow shell. He would listen to a weather synopsis, childhood heartbreak, a book she read. Anything. But, alas, she refuses this offer, this escape, and he relents, giving her the wide berth of space she so desperately needs.

_And eventually she will talk. And he will never stop listening._


	3. IV

**A/N: A continuation of what he said, this time taken from Corporal Punishment. Let me know how it is? Kit.**

**DISCLAIMER: Alas, still nothing.**

**IV.**

"If she's got a fault, it's that she cares to much."

The context in which he said it could have been interpreted two ways. The first way, and the one that the majority of the current company had believed, was that he considered the advocate on the screen a selfless person. But beneath the obvious infliction, the sentiment had in fact been directed at one certain Israeli. Because her fault was exactly that: That she cared too much. Too much to let anyone get close, too much to allow anyone in, just in case. Just in case something happened, if she had to leave, permanently, temporarily, relocating to another city, continent, realm. She was loyal to a fault -because she cared too much. And had lost so much, so many people, too much and too many. And if perhaps she protected the ones she had left, kept them in the dark, kept them at arm's length, removed herself from the equation so that the sum may total up to be happiness, that was her fault. That she loved too much and therefore closed herself off, kept her lips sealed, stayed far far far away. So that those she cared about might somehow, magically, fortunately, auspiciously, be okay. To sacrifice herself so that another's pain would be spared. Because she cared too much.

_Eventually, he is able to adequately convince her that she is, in return, cared for, and that caring is not a fault afterall._


	4. V

**A/N: Due to the smashing into a creative roadblock on my multi-chap fic., I decided to just focus solely on this piece and my other works in progress (Fathers, the Liason, the Playlist which I planned on finishing _ages _ago) . . . . . Anyway, I sincerely hope that everyone is doing wonderful. This week has been a little rocky for me -but I did finish the FCAT (and to those of you who do not know what an FCAT is, count your blessings. And to those of you who do, my deepest sympathies) permanently! The FCAT is a standardized test used in the state of Florida created for the sole purpose of torturing children and teachers alike. Anyway, I never ever have to take it again! Yay! But I digress. Here is what I came up with for this famous Tiva quotation, and I admit that it does run a bit in circles, but I hope is not too entirely confusing. It is a bit longer than the others, but that's okay, it was fun to write. And fair warning to you now, I used the word 'inevitably' _a lot_. Let me know what you think, if you like. Kit.**

**DISCLAIMER: I will inevitably own nothing.**

**V.**

"It was inevitable."

And he supposes, deep down, that it was. Because that was life, wasn't it? No guarantees, a constant game of ever changing dice, inevitable. Death was inevitable and Jenny was certainly not the primary example of this faultless logic, for there was Kate and Paula and countless others. All lost to oblivion, to heaven or no where or wherever it was that he thought he believed. Inevitable. . . . . And that must have been when it happened, when Jennifer Sheppard did the impossible and broke through the barricade that was one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Paris. The City of Lights -the City of Love. Something they would always have. Because there were stakeouts together and life or death experiences in abundance and Serbian crawlspaces and closed quarters. And there were looks and brushes of knees and hands, skin accidentally touching skin, undercover operations and an odd affinity for redheads. . . . . There were invasions of space and intrusions in the men's room, dark curls spilling onto his chest as she looms over his shoulder, face inches from his, watching him type whatever he was supposed to be typing. And there were movie nights two summers ago with beer and pizza and just talking, there were stakeouts and undercover operations that involved seven hits to the jaw, a split lip, and one pretty Israeli in a green silken dress. But what happened with Gibbs and Jenny, that wasn't inevitable -that was merely two people in too close of proximity, with a strong physical attraction reinforced by years of depending on the other.

And so she is right and she is wrong when she says simply that nothing is inevitable. Because everything is evitable so long as the one undeniable inevitability is brought into play. Because when one is claimed by an inevitable death? Everything else? Yeah, it becomes nothing and it becomes inevitable.

_Two years later, in a glamorous Parisian hotel room, basking in the warm that rolls off him, she'll realize that she was wrong, that some things are inevitable (and that not all inevitable things are necessarily bad). And two years later, in a glamorous Parisian hotel room, he'll lay next to her, marveling at the golden radiance that is her. And he'll realize exactly why it happened for their predecessors when it did. And it wasn't just a strong physical attraction, nor was it years of depending on the other. It was (inevitably and irrevocably) love._


	5. VI

**A/N: Not entirely for sure I love this particular bit . . . . Let me know what you think of it (if you want to, of course)? Until next time, Kit.**

**DISCLAIMER: Hmm . . . . I got nothing.**

**VI.**

"I'm tired of pretending."

He's been pretending for too long, he's been lying and deceiving and it is a game that has now grown too too cold. Because everything is not at all what it seemed to once be. There were enough half veiled lies with the previous administration, there were enough broken hearts and dead bodies and endless tangles of complexities. And when the people he depends on, the man he trusts more that anyone, sends him on a wild goose chase, searching blindly for a proverbial needle in a haystack that isn't even there. -never was there- it's a blow to the jaw when he's already down. He is exhausted and worn out and, in all honesty, getting too old for this crap. He is no guinea pig, he isn't the canary that is sent into the dusty mine to choke dead on his own song (and neither is she, she doesn't deserve to be force fed lies as well) . . . . . Lies, falsehoods, mendacities, they are nothing new to him and this is a sad truth. And the fact that she could have been killed just as easily as he is not a new concept either. But he does expect to be kept in the ever tightening loop in the only circuit of information that actually counts. . . . . And he is tired of pretending that none of this mess bothers him, tired of acting like he doesn't lose sleep over a restless conscious that has taken the burden from a guiltier party than he. He's tired of pretending that when he came to after the blow to the head from an offending fist that wasn't supposed to even be there. . . . . He's tired of pretending he wasn't worried. That he wasn't bracing himself for the fact that she may not wake up beside him, pissed off for being ambushed and overpowered, that he may see her lifeless in the satin embrace of a casket's lining. He's tired of pretending he doesn't care what happens to her, to him, to them.

____

_Eventually, they no longer have to pretend because eventually the truth will cast all shadows of doubt away. And eventually, they no longer have to act under a guise of indifference. _

* * *

____

P.S. I think someone asked where "_If she's got a fault it's that she cares too much_" came from and only then did I realize I haven't put what episodes have supplied these lovely quotes. Apologies for that, my friends. Anyway, the quote in question was from _Corporal Punishment_. And as soon as I can, I'll post an intermediate author's note with a episode/quote thingy (you know what I'm talking about). Peace and love, Kit.


	6. VII

**A/N: And here is installment number 7. . . . I sincerely hope you enjoy (and if you like, you can review -I won't object :^)). Kit.**

**DISCLAIMER: Yeah, right.**

**VII.**

"Yeah, but I'm not entirely for sure it's worth . . . . Dying over."

Nor is he entirely for sure what possessed him into following her to an impending doom, climbing several dozen feet above a dusty ground to perch on a rafter that was probably more rotted than previously perceived. And nestled between him and her is a big black looming object crisscrossed with wires and adorned with a cell phone. And it is the cell phone that worries him because, even though he asks, he knows very well what would happen if it went off, if some evil fingers pressed a send call button and the phone before him received. There would be more than just death threats against his country painted on the wall. . . . He does stare down her shirt, and he does flash back into a time when their partnership was fledgling and there wasn't cotton fabric obstructing his view. . . . He talks to her, to calm her, steady her ever steady hand, quiet his thundering heart and quaking nerve. He talks to calm himself, really, because sarcasm and humor and a rapid spill of words are his coping mechanism -and if now is not a time to cope, he hasn't the slightest idea what is. But, as always, she is efficient and he extremely lucky because there is no deafening explosion, no fiery inferno to whisk him to eternity. Just him. And one pretty Israeli, who zips up her sweater, and swears she'll remember that. That being what is worth dying over.

_Eventually, nearly three years later eventually, he will finally prove to her just how much she means to him and that she really is worth dying for._


	7. VIII

**A/N: This is one of my favorite quotes. Let me know what you think (if you want)? Kit.**

**DISCLAIMER: *Still nothing.**

**VIII.**

"You get used to seeing someone everyday, talking to 'em, relying on 'em, then all of the sudden they're not there."

_You weren't there. _He wasn't there. They were dust, scattered to opposite ends of the world because a hurricane force gust blew everything that meant anything away. The loss was still raw, the wound still a half-healed pink scar, the bruise slow to fade. And then they were separated cruelly for reasons never fully spoken, never completely disclosed. Snatched from the only family either had really ever known, from the only place either had lived that was worth calling home. She sent away with a one way ticket to a desert hell that exiled her years ago while he was damned to the cramped confines of an iron prison, floating precariously in limbo. And that was how they had left it, each other, home and family. One night of whispered goodbyes and warm embraces and so very nearly crossing that thin blurry line. Memories suspended in limbo. . . . . He had hated her, but not really, when they first met, a hate that took too much effort to keep in place so he let it dissipate. And he got used to seeing her, everyday, filling a once empty desk and invading his space, fitting perfectly, claiming her own spot, her own place, amongst the most dysfunctional family he'd ever seen. And he had gotten so familiar with her being there, talking to him, goading him, inconspicuously worrying about him, irritating him and laughing with him. And perhaps he had become too reliant on her, too comfortable with someone, her, watching his six, keeping him covered in the most dangerous situations. Because when she suddenly wasn't there and he suddenly wasn't there, the loss was afresh and his entire world was off kilter, a frightening wobble of an axis, almost as if being shaken by waves against the cold hull of a ship . . . . He made a mistake and had gotten too used to caring about her.

_Eventually, he gets reused to seeing her everyday, every morning, at his side, when they wake up. Because they're both there now._

* * *

**A/N: This was actually not intended to be included, it wasn't even a quote I liked. However, it mirrors that above quote nicely, especially within that first part. You weren't there. I typed that and I was like: Oh! Irony! So there you have it, again reviews are welcome but never obligated (nor begged for, nor demanded). Enjoy, Kit.**

**DISCLAIMER:* See above. **

"You weren't there."

A phrase echoing thoughts long since thought into the air, thrown mercilessly at her as she looms above him, the harsh sun of the ominous desert hell watching coldly down upon them.

_Eventually, he was there. Right when she needed him, right when he needed her. And there is no more leaving after that, which is good because no one got used to that anyway. The leaving. As for the staying? Yeah, they did get real used to_ that.


	8. IX

**A/N: As soon as I finish typing this author's note, I am going to finish the last chapter of this piece! Exciting! And maybe this sense of completion will leach over into my other ongoing pieces (namely Fathers, the Liaison, and the Playlist). But I digress, onto the second (and perhaps my least favorite) to last edition. And then onto the companion (did I just give something away?????) Let me know how it goes, if you want to (you can even just say 'hi' if you like). Kit.**

**DISCLAIMER: And it continues to be a perpetual nothing. **

**IX.**

"It's dinner theater for an audience of one. When's the curtain go down?"

Because Leon Vance is continuing the masquerade of carefully veiled lies and once again he finds himself lodged in the midst of opaque fabrics woven from falsehoods. And he can no longer distinguish the truth from fiction. Nor does he want to, actually. Because what if everything turned out to be lie? What if his last thirty-eight years had been completely fabricated? Was it legal for a federal agency to hire someone under false pretenses, as some sick cruel joke? In hindsight, however, he decides he wants to know, that perhaps living in ignorant bliss is more harmful than helpful -if the split lip and purple bruises are anything to go by. . . . The last thing he saw before the lights went out was her, a blurry flurry of movement. And according to her she only reacted as she did, forsaking their distinct orders to not engage, because she saw him -here she had trailed off, but he isn't utterly stupid, he can fill in the blanks. Because she saw him go down. And that isn't fair at all, that she had to compromise herself to protect him -and he has seen the dark stain blossomed across her hip, a token of her valiant efforts. . . . His head is hurting from all his musing, his mind exhausted as his body after trying to piece together a jigsaw puzzle that's missing pieces anyway. Long story short? He's done, his ready for his curtain call -and no, he does plan on taking an encore, nor does he intend to bow. After all, it a dinner theater for one, and he is the only one watching this sad little performance.

And in all honesty, he supposes, it doesn't matter. Because the act will continue long after the curtain falls.

_And eventually, the act is no longer such an act, the fictitious roles were abandoned for a more truer story. And when the curtain finally does fall? The difference? He wasn't alone backstage anymore for she was right there beside him._


	9. X

**A/N: Yeah, yeah. I know I said that this is the final chapter, but, alas, I unintentionally lied. Because as I put the finishing touches on the finale, the plot bunnies attacked. Viciously. So now we have two additional parts to the piece. But that is absolutely fine.**

**DISCLAIMER: Nada.**

**X.**

"For you."

And even though she hates him, she's safe. Because he had to it, had to kill Rivkin so he wouldn't kill her. And it's fine that she hates him, it's okay that she is looming over him, pressing her gun barrel to his chest, her words accusing and her eyes wet. And it doesn't matter that she may never ever forgive him, or that they may end up going their separate ways. Because he knows. He knows that his four shots have bought her that knowledge too. Knowledge that her father is dirty, that the war is not hers, that she does actually deserve so much better. And he was jealous and he was afraid and he was so angry. . . . But it wasn't for him, it never was, not when she's concerned. Everything he did, he did for her. Because he loved her.

_And eventually, she believes him._


	10. XI

**A/N: I really liked this one. **

**DISCLAIMER: Nothing.**

**XI.**

"Ziva? Can you fight?"

_You have to fight. We're almost there. They're almost here. Please please please just fight._ And he knows he's asked so much of her, he knows she surely must be at her breaking point, surely she will shatter soon. Or evaporate as the shimmering mirage her specter must be. But she has to fight, she has to conjure that little bit of fire she has left, if she would only will those dying embers to simmer just a little longer. All he needed was for her to fight, please please just let her fight. He came all this wall for nothing, found something, and cannot bear to return with what he had previously not sought (he wasn't supposed to return anyway, according to his original plan). He has asked so very much, from her, from Him, from his team. But if He is listening like his mother told him He does, then He will not let her surrender herself. He will give her some strength to pull through, to make it home. He will have mercy on him and her and them and He will grant them one more day -one whole and perfect day so that he can rectify his wrongs and make it right with her. Please. Let her fight. . . . . And she does, the light flickers in her dead brown eyes, and she struggles onward. Because he asked so nicely. And he has never been more thankful.

And she does fight, for him.


	11. XII

**A/N: And voila! The End! Yay! Stay tuned though, because there will be a companion for this titled: That's What She Said. Reviews are appreciated, but never demanded. Love and peace and until next time, Kit.**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. **

**XII.**

"Couldn't live without you, I guess."

And he tried, he tried so very very hard, he really did. Unfortunately (fortunately?) he failed. Miserably. Because that was life without her, regardless of his vain attempts to forget her. Miserable. Hellacious. Unbearable. And it was so much easier to just die, because a life without her was a life he wanted no particular part of. Because he missed her and needed her and loved her that much. And yes, it was justified suicide that he even entertained the thought of avenging her, but was is the operative word. Because now that she is pulsing and breathing alive before him, well, now dying is certainly not an option. _Couldn't live without you, I guess_. His equivalent to_ I love you _and_ I'm sorry_. _Couldn't live without you_. And he is still under the influence of a potent concoction that has loosen his tongue and allowed the truth to pass his lips, uncensored. And it is the utmost truth that he says this. And he means it, wholly and totally and utterly. He could not, would not, refused to, live without her. Because he loved her that much.

_And he never ever had to live without her ever again. _


End file.
